


Comfort my heart's blindness

by risinggreatness



Series: Circle 'round the sun [85]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2018-03-11 21:22:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3333314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/risinggreatness/pseuds/risinggreatness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the dark of winter, there is always a light spot of hope (not EU compliant)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comfort my heart's blindness

It’s hard for any of them to let go. It’s why Luke practically has to order her to take a vacation before Ahsoka agrees she needs a break.

Gods. They only have one student between the four – five of them. ( _Jiro settles into the Temple nicely, though he is cautious about using the Force._ )

She doesn’t know where she wants to go, but when Leia asks, Ahsoka responds, “Onderon.”

It’s as good a place as any to get her mind off of Mandalore.

She’s never seen Onderon in winter and when she arrives it is blanketed in snow. Red-orange rupings glide across a grey backdrop and dip into the freshly covered highlands. Kira’s markets bustle with activity, something festive in the air.

Even Saw’s usually bitter mood is lifted by the whimsical spirit of the season. “You came just in time for the Feast of Shatoon.”

“The Feast of what?”

“Shatoon. Legend says Shatoon was the first beast-rider of Onderon. There’s some spiritual dalgoshit about how he communed with them and they led him to the spot where his monastery supposedly stood in the highlands.”

“Sounds like he was a Force-wielder.”

Saw snorts, “Is everything about the Jedi with you? It’s just a legend. There is no monastery and, historically, Shatoon was the original tribe of settlers who tamed the rupings and the dalgos, not a single man.”

Ahsoka thinks there might have been some distant Force-connection between the settlers and the beasts, but holds her tongue. It’s nice to see Saw enjoying himself and keeping up the planet’s traditions. He’s proud of his system and proud of its history, whatever he thinks of its myths.

“So, do you have any ceremonial duties you have to attend to or are you free to accompany through the festival?”

They pass by stalls and booths of all kinds; vendors give treats to children, craftsmen detail expensive-looking riding gear, merchants sell trinkets and nick-knacks.

Holiday cheer lights everyone’s eyes. Ahsoka basks in it, her spirits rising too.

Her attention is diverted as they pass by a temple; candles lit in memoriam. Ahsoka feels a pang of guilt. Saw doesn’t give it a second glance.

They passed dozens of families with smiling faces; people sharing in traditions and blithe spirit. A time for loved ones, as it should be. They don’t talk about their shared dead, but she realizes some of Saw’s excitement over the festivities is strained, forcing himself to look ahead.

As a gesture, Ahsoka lights another candle for both of them.

“There hasn’t been a Feast of Shatoon since before Onderon broke off from the Republic,” he says transfixed by the flame. “When we were growing up, it was Steela’s favorite time of year.”

“Then enjoy it for her.”

Snow falls lightly and the sky darkens as they leave the memorial.

They go to a tavern full of jolly, bright-faced patrons. Stomping the snow from their boots, they take off their coats and find a table close to the fireside. A round of mulled wine later and they are laughing, full-bellied with the rest.

“So what’s next for the Jedi Order? Another crusade? Or has Mandalore beaten the fight out of you?”

They’re both intoxicated enough on drink and good cheer that the question is not meant or taken as a dig at their recent failure.

Delightfully tipsy, “Luke and I want focus on growing the Order. He’s already got one padawan _but_ – you’ll never believe it – someone finally came to us!”

“Once there are more of you, you should think about moving off Coruscant.”

“Find me Shatoon’s monastery and I’ll move it to Onderon.”

Raising his glass, “I’ll drink to that.”

\----------

Leia takes the lead, carrying Pres down the steps of the veranda to the lakeshore. Han follows more slowly, still limping though not near as bad as before.

Ordinarily, the lake would draw their attention, but today they make for the treeline, trudging through a good foot of new snow.

“Tell me. Why are we doing this again?”

“Tradition. Each year, after the first snow, my parents would take me gingerbell picking. We would trim the grand entrance with them and we would use the root in baking. The whole palace would smell of gingerbell for days.”

Leia’s eyes glimmer the same as the sunlight on the untouched snow.

Han can only imagine how she must have enjoyed Alderaan’s seasonal delights because he’s pretty sure gingerbells are not native to Naboo ( _or any other planet in the galaxy_ ).

“Mother had them in her garden, but they always grew best in the wild,” she says to the bundle of blankets that is their son.

Winter is a sacred time for Leia. She doesn’t have to say it. The yearning for her childhood home and the desire to create new, cherished traditions for Pres is written plainly on her face as she coos over him.

Han raises his face to the clearing sky. Grey fades into pale blue, which will, in turn, give way to night, littered with stars.

He’s thought more of his own childhood and parents lately – probably a result of newfound fatherhood ( _there’s barely been time to adjust_ ). They didn’t do things like this on Corellia, at least not in Tyrena. The snow never had mystical properties in the lower parts of the city – too sooty, too grimy.

But he understands those moments spent with parents were precious, limited as they were, and he wants to give Pres ( _and any others_ ) as many as possible.

Pres won’t remember today, but he will remember every time after.

“Okay. What are we looking for?”

“Millaflowers. Big, red, and sweet enough to soothe a rancor.”

“We could have used some of them back on Tatooine.”

Leia laughs and leads on into the woods.

They find a great bush of millaflowers in a clearing to the north, their scent perfuming the air, long before they were in sight. Han hopes the smell won’t be overwhelming after they’ve trimmed the house in them.

By the time she’s collected enough, Leia’s arms are too full to carry both the flowers and Pres. Han takes his turn holding the squirming infant, who is more than ready for his nap when they get back.

“It’s a pity we don’t have anything to bake,” Han remarks regretfully.

Leia smiles slyly, “Funny you should mention it.”

At the house, they put Pres to bed and Leia retrieves her surprise, “Pom-root flour. For holiday cookies. The recipe is meant for a spring celebration, but I couldn’t pass up this opportunity.”

Baking is a skill Han never learned; when he gets weary of the process, mixing and measuring turns into smudging flour onto each other’s faces. Most of the dough either ends up in their stomachs or sticking to their hands and in their hair. There’s barely enough to make it worth rolling out and putting it in the oven. They do anyway.

The warm, pom aroma wafts throughout the house, mingling in the air with the perfume of the millaflowers.

If this is how they’re going to drive the cold of winter away, Han could very well get used to it.

\----------

Luke’s hopeful about this lead; hopeful enough he brings Set along. Someone contacted _them_.

The Arkinnea system is pretty out of the way, but the opportunity is too promising. Set lights up when the planet comes into view; Arkinnea in winter.

“When it snows at home, Kier and I go to the forest and build a fort in the thicket. Our friends build forts in the hills and we have a giant snowball fight,” Set talks animatedly, but his shoulders slump slightly forward.

Luke can’t relate to the wonders of the winter season or the same company Set is accustomed to; he does empathize. Set is thirteen. He comes from a full home and a full life. They may treat him as one of their own at the Temple, but he needs friends his age.

No matter how well he gets along with his student, Luke can’t replace the friends Set left behind. Still, he does his best…

“Think fast –” Luke aims a snowball at Set.

He does and spins the snow back towards Luke; Luke dodges it, but is quickly caught by another one.

A couple of pitches turn into a game. The game makes them forget what they came here to do.

“What are you doing here?”

Their amusement is disrupted by an aggressive growl and a familiar snap-hiss. Panicked and overly alert, Set ducks behind a snow bank. Luke faces the newcomer, hand hovering by his lightsaber.

Calmly, “I’m Luke Skywalker. And this is my padawan, Set,” he indicates to Set, still hidden. “Chase Piru gave me these coordinates – said she wanted to meet.”

The bothan grunts, lowering his blade, “Didn’t expect you to show. Better come with me.”

They follow the bothan to a nearby cabin. He calls inside and a woman steps out to greet them. She also wears a lightsaber hilt.

Luke’s heart flips. Two former Jedi reaching out to them. There’s something different about them too.

They openly display their lightsabers. Their connection to the Force is alive; they’ve been practicing, but they’re rusty – like Jiro and Seddwia.

Extending a hand, “Master _Skywalker_. I’m Chase Piru. You’ve already met Kai.”

Her hand is rough from years of lightsaber-wielding; Luke tries not to let her skepticism bother him ( _he’s heard it from too many of the old Order already_ ).

He nods and insists, “Please, call me Luke.”

Chase and Kai eye him then Set, standing tensely at his elbow. Their welcome suddenly seems on thin ice.

“I suppose you’re wondering why I asked you to come here.”

“You wanted to be sure of me,” he responds automatically.

Kai snorts. Chase sighs, “Yes, but we’re not worried about ourselves. The New Order appears to be what it claims. If not, we leave.”

“Why then –”

Cut off, Chase looks past him, “Do you like the Temple? Is it everything they promised it would be?”

Set stares the old Jedi down indignantly, “Of course.”

That seems to be enough assurance for them for now; the air relaxes.

“Bant, would you join us?” Chase calls. From the frozen creek a head pops up. She’s Mon Calamari, about Set’s age, the Force emanating from her presence. “Bant, this is Master Luke. He’s come to take us to the Temple.”

Her face brightens like Set’s when he saw the snow. The rest of introductions take place then the two of the go back down to the creek. Chase follows shortly, testing their concentration abilities on the ice and leaving Luke alone with Kai.

The bothan hasn’t spoken since they arrived at the cabin. All the bothans he knows have trouble keeping their minds to themselves. Not Kai. Kai keeps his thoughts guarded.

“I remember when the Jedi came to take me away from my family; they took me later than most younglings. I never understood the practice.”

“But you’re coming with her.”

“She is not my child. Chase and I found her – orphaned. Tell me those old practices are gone.”

Gone is not the right word. Not all of them needed to be torn down; some of them are worth honoring and upholding.

Luke suspects Kai is seeking a more specific answer, not for Bant’s sake, but for his own.

“Set sees his family whenever he can.”

Kai nods, “I will join you.”

Set and Bant lift stones in the air and place them on the creek; the Order’s second young student smiles broadly when she manages a trick Set cannot. Their weight is heavy, but the thin ice does not crack.

\----------

It hasn’t snowed on Coruscant in living history, but the city still can be blisteringly cold. Frost etches swirling pictures on the windows, shielding them from the high winds.

Leia and Pres put their faces to the glass to watch the endless stream of speeders. His eyes are wide with wonder.

His excitement makes Leia more reluctant to go to this formal dinner.

Once she’s there, everything will be fine. The food will be delicious, the company vibrant, and the conversation stimulating. All that doesn’t change her desire to stay home. Their chilly evenings include together curling up on the sofa with a book and some hot chocolate. What more could she possibly ask for?

Pres traces the frosty patterns on the glass with a finger.

Smiling at him, “Watch this.”

Leia breathes on the window. Her warm breath fogs on the cold glass and she drags her own finger through it.

Pres imitates her, delighted when his picture stays on the window.

She hugs him tighter.

But when Luke comes to collect Pres, she snaps out of her little fantasy and goes to the dinner.

State functions are always elegant, but Mon’s outdone herself this time. The evening’s festivities begin with drinks and the mingling of senators; a fire roars at one end of the room, keeping everything toasty. Dinner makes Leia fuller than she ever wants to feel again.

She collapses in an armchair close to the fire and strikes up a conversation with the senator from Rodia.

They speak of their families and their systems, of new policies and legislations. The rodian is very interested in the expansion of the New Jedi Order. ( _“Everything is ‘new’ these days,” the senator remarks wistfully. “It makes the future seem a little brighter, a little more hopeful.”_ )

The conversation cheers Leia.

Sometimes the endless work is overwhelming and feels as though it accomplishes little, but she can’t deny they’ve made great strides forward in the past few years.

She still can’t help shuddering, thinking of their last days on Mandalore, but this dinner is a symbol of moving forward – to put the bad of the year behind and celebrate their successes.

“Excuse me, Senator. May I borrow Leia a moment?”

Mon draws Leia aside. They find a quiet space by the window. If she looks straight ahead the sky is completely black, but looking down Coruscant is a riot of colors.

“I’ve been wondering, my dear, what you plan to do next?”

Leia’s been asking herself the same question: what’s next? She remembers it being a favorite question of Colton Alde’s; a signal he’s ready for his next task. Her father adopted it from time to time.

The thing is, the question never has an easy answer.

There are a million things Leia needs to do – to see done. It is never ending.

“It’s time Alderaanians had a home again. I think we should begin the search for a suitable system as soon as possible.”

It is the next biggest thing on her plate, but size has never daunted her. As always, it is her own feelings which frighten her.

Before she wasn’t sure if she was ready, if she was emotionally capable, to replace her home ( _never replacing_ ). But tonight has given her new confidence for the future.

The Chancellor raises her glass, “To New Alderaan.”

“New Alderaan,” Leia agrees.

\----------

It will be anywhere from a few days to a week, so the doctor tells her.

She is told to sit tight; it’s the exact moment Mara bucks.

_Wild Karrde_ ’s docked at the Academy. Mara doesn’t think twice about stowing abroad in her old bunk. She’s not going to do anything risky or dangerous. She just needs to get off of Coruscant and do something to keep from being cooped up any longer.

Karrde’s laugh booms when Mara appears on the bridge, huge and considerably overdue. But he pulls up a chair beside him and insists she sit ( _her ankles thank him for it_ ).

“Let me join you on this job, then take me home. You always said you liked a disarming second-in-command.”

“I didn’t mean pregnant. Besides, I thought you had given up smuggling.”

She has. This is a onetime thing.

“And the father of your brood, what does he have to say about this?”

He doesn’t know. Luke’s still at the Temple, clutching the holo, awaiting her call.

Mara bites her lip. She’s deliberately acting impulsive and selfish. What if she goes into labor during the deal? Luke will be lightyears away – the nearest medical outpost probably will be too – and having a baby certainly doesn’t fit with Karrde’s ‘business first’ policy.

She shrugs it off. Their daughter’s already late; she can give Mara three days.

“You know, as well as I do, Skywalker couldn’t stop me if I wanted to go pregnant into the middle of a war zone.”

Karrde barks in laughter again, but doesn’t object.

The cargo is dropped unceremoniously in the snow.

The buyer lifts an eyebrow at the crates then at Karrde and Mara, “I’d heard you were as good as your word, I didn’t realize you were running a family business.”

Mara resists the urge to squirm under his gaze. It’s not the first time they’ve been mistaken for a couple. That doesn’t bother her. ( _Karrde doesn’t chase women._ ) The reminder of her parents is what bothers her.

_Family business. Only in the loosest definition of the word_ , she thinks scathingly.

“Is that a problem?” Karrde is unfazed.

“No. Just unusual.”

“Good. Shall we settle on a price?”

They move inside to haggle. Karrde uses the buyer’s misconception against him – playing the role of expectant father. Mara wonders how much Antar played up Syrule’s pregnancy to swindle people.

_Smuggler’s tradition_ , she supposes. _Do and use anything for the extra couple credits._

After the first few minutes, Mara loses interest in the negotiations; she watches as the crew moves the cargo into the settlement.

The sky darkens and new snow falls onto the bare the trees while they work. The trunks bow under the weight, but the smallest branches still reach like fingers for the moons and stars. Wind shakes powdery flakes free, blowing them across the landscape in thin clouds.

Mara suddenly aches for Luke. She doesn’t like Karrde pretending their baby is his. She doesn’t like being lightyears apart from her husband, not this far past due. She’s run away again; she doesn’t like it.

( _They promised they would do better than their parents._ )

She aches for Luke again, more painfully. The stars aren’t bringing him any closer tonight.

And these aches are hurting a bit too much; her sides convulse.

“Shit. Talon, I don’t care about your business. You get me to a fucking medical outpost now!”

The use of his first name must have startled Karrde because he doesn’t argue and they set out ( _he leaves his real lieutenant behind to finish the job_ ).

They’re still far apart, but Mara has three contractions before they reach a medical facility; she screams loudly with each one, setting the crew on edge. She contacts Luke the second they’re on board, Leia after the first contraction, Luke again after the next two ( _it won’t make him come any faster_ ).

Mara’s put in a room by herself, Karrde follows only after cajoled by one of the droids that zips in and out.

“Your whole family is going to be deeply indebted to me, you know that?”

Her laugh is distant compared to the side-splitting pain.

Luke arrives what feels like hours later. He snatches up her hand as another contraction begins; she squeezes so hard if it wasn’t mechanical it would have turned blue.

Their daughter is born pink and screaming and healthy. Both mother and father breathe out in relief.

“I’m glad she waited until you got here.”

“It would have been better if she waited until you got back to Coruscant.”

He doesn’t ask why she took off.

Mara’s head feels suddenly heavy. The last nine months were too long, the past few days even longer; it’s time to go home. Time to surround themselves with their loved ones and cherish the newborn in her arms.

Mara opens her heart to her daughter. The engines of _Jade’s Fire_ melt away her last remaining doubts.

**Author's Note:**

> See author bio for discussion on this 'verse.


End file.
